


Cherry

by jenojaemin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Na Jaemin is a Mess, One Shot, accountant!Jeno, druggie!Jaemin, it gets very soft very fast, nurse!Jaemin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenojaemin/pseuds/jenojaemin
Summary: "I like you." Jeno explains. Jaemin continues to stare at him, perplexed. "You're interesting.""You don't think I'm boring?" Jaemin quirks an eyebrow. Jeno smiles and shakes his head, the notion absurd to him. "Annoying?" He asks, not an air of self deprecation to his words, just honest confusion. "Most people do.""No." Jeno chuckles."Really?"Jeno laughs in his face. "Really!"Jaemin nods, finally looking away, a satisfied smile playing over his lips. "Cool..."
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends ♡ I’m back again, but this time with a nomin fic! I’ve come to love dream a lot, and man are these two just so perfect for each other.
> 
> This fic is kind of messy as I wrote it in one go, and I’m not sure it really flows well, but I still like it. My apologies if there’s some unresolved themes, but I liked it so much as is it felt weird to pad out with more information. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyways, please let me know if you do! Comments always make my day. Enjoy ♡
> 
> TW for drug and alcohol use, and one not so graphic scene involving blood.

The city is dull and empty. Thick clouds of snow shield a black night and hover low, purple and warm. It's almost as if it's quieter than usual - like the clouds are so close to the ground that they absorb all the noise and static of the city, like a giant pillow muffling the busy chatter of the lives that inhabit Seoul. The air feels warmer with the snow - the clouds protect from the harsh wind for a moment, making you forget about the nipping frost, but the bone chilling cold still prevails anyway, icy stems of frigid air seeping through fabric and lashing against exposed skin. Even with the warmth the snow provided, the night still stays unavoidably cold enough for a thick jacket and wool scarf, pulled up high to Jeno's bright red ears as he makes his way home from work. Snowflakes dampen his hair as he walks down the street, the hollow crunch of snow under his boots transforming into an obnoxious squeak when he enters the train station.

The pale green light of the nearly empty room flickers unforgivingly, like its purpose was to make Jeno's head hurt and face appear graciously unattractive. As if the train station served to make everyone unappealing. It felt offensive to be in such a place, every soul passing through Jeno's sight as he boarded the train appeared to be the _ugly_ child of the family, the light a determined force, always sure to do its job, always making Jeno and the strangers around him look sickly and soulless. But as Jeno stepped on the train, damp hair and tired eyes scanning over empty seats to find somewhere comfortable, hidden, he found the exception to what he always believed to be a rule.

Somehow, the ugly setting was obstructed by an angelic looking face: heavy lidded, blood shot doe eyes and thin, pink lips that wrapped around a chewed up bendy straw. Tiny pale fingers around a cup of soda and a content smile plastered on the youthful face. Jeno decides to sit near him, transfixed. His face shone through the harsh ugly light so bright and so outstandingly that Jeno finds it hard to not gravitate towards him, walking mindlessly past empty seats till he's sat nearly across from the boy, close enough so he can admire the him as the train moves forward through the black night, unnoticed by the angelic stranger.

He's encapsulating, whoever he is. A youthful air shines through the fog of fluorescent lights that line the silent train. The same light that that attacked Jeno's skin so viciously, shining bright and harsh against his tired flesh seemed to absorb into the young man's tanned skin, oozing back that of an unearthly glow that made it hard for Jeno to believe the whole world wasn't as in love with him as he fell in that moment. He was enticing, and he had Jeno's attention at full without even a word.

The boy looked quite young, but he clearly was older than his face told. Sea foam green scrubs peeked out from where his thick black coat didn't cover, a hospital identification card clipped into his messenger bag that he held with a oddly protective grasp. He appeared to be in his 20's, though face was convincing otherwise, his skin so bright and soft - so young looking Jeno found it hard to believe this boy wasn't in high school. But people lie - faces lie.

Unfortunately, Jeno's admiration session was cut short when the boy finally pulled himself up from where he was slumped on the row of train seats, stumbling awkwardly till he was standing directly in front of Jeno, a dopey smile crawling across his soft face, pale, thin fingers wrapped around the pole adjacent to Jeno. He smiled back politely, though a bit awkward as he was now fully convinced the man had to be piss drunk by his clumsy demeanour.

"Hi." The boy said, trailing the edge of the chewed up straw along those shiny lips as the train came to a halt, making the hospital worker stumble out of place. His loose grip on the pole slipping as the train jolted and the soda cup falling from his grasp onto the already slush wet floor, spilling ice and bright red liquid along it. "Whoops..." He laughed, stepping back as the drink flowed towards him. He looked up at Jeno, still smiling. "Sorry." He shrugged, before swiftly turning away and exiting the train.

After the train began to move again Jeno lifted his feet, the soda now spread further down the aisle of the train set in motion. The soles of Jeno's boots stuck to the floor of the train station when he finally made it to his stop. The smell thick and sugary, carried home with him even through the snow and dirt. Cherry.

"Go to the doctor." Renjun's voice was obnoxious over the wall of his cubicle. Then again, when was it not obnoxious?

"I'm not sick." Jeno retorted, tissue still clutched by his nose, waiting for another sneeze that never came. "Besides, they're not going to do anything except poke me full of needles. And I'll miss work."

"You have sneezed 17,000 times since Monday. You're sick." Renjun deadpans, though judging by how sore his throat is Jeno's is a bit convinced it may be the truth.

"I'm not sick."

"What's the worst that can happen? You get felt up by a hot nurse, prescribed some cough medicine and then a few days off work." His coworker insists, still fed up with Jeno's incessant coughing and sneezing, being the only one who's cubicle was beside Jeno's. "God knows you deserve it." The shorter man says, a little more sincere. "You work hard, Jeno. And you have vacation pay, why not take some time off? Rest up a bit?"

Jeno admires his consideration, but shakes his head. "It's not the money." He sighs. "If I'm not here that means I'll just have to catch up when I get back, and god knows how pissed off Doyoung will get if I don't catch up on those sales reports he told me to do last week." Jeno rubs his temples. Life is horrid.

"Okay, hear me out." His friend says, folding his arms on the edge of the flimsy cubicle wall. Jeno's scared one day the wall will finally break and Doyong will come storming out of his office to yell at the two of them, but not today. "You take a break, and I stay late and finish up those spread sheets... I'll skip my coffee and lunch breaks and do some extra work for you - and you go home, order some take out, get naked and take a four hour long bubble bath with a bottle of red wine." He suggests, a proud little smile pulling over his face.

"I'm sick I'm not a widowed white woman." Jeno bites back. "And I hate red wine."

Renjun throws a folder at Jeno over the wall, ducking down when he sees Doyoung’s head whip around from where he's stood in the copy room. Renjun rolls his chair to the side of Jeno's cubicle. "Take a break. Go to the clinic, get some drugs, sleep for a fucking week." He whispers. "I've got you covered."

Jeno smiles at the sentiment finally. It seems as though Renjun really does care enough to stay late, and although he probably won't do the work as well as Jeno might, he does deserve a vacation, and tries to tell himself he can forget about being a perfectionist for at least a few days. "Thanks." He whispers back.

Jeno knows Renjun’s about to bat a hand - say it's no problem - when Doyoung’s voice is heard over the dull murmur of the office, Renjun's name booming loud in contrast. "Shit." He panics, eyes wide as he rolls away quickly, leaving Jeno giggling amidst coughs behind a balled up fist.

While sitting in a room full of coughing, sneezing, diseased and distressed strangers it's hard to remind oneself to stick around.

The place is packed, like rush hour pre-holiday, Monday morning Starbucks packed, and Jeno feels as though he could never call himself tall, feeling overshadowed and tiny amongst the sick strangers, crying children and bustling staff. The older woman beside him fell asleep about an hour ago, after the pervious hour she spent squinting at a crossword puzzle, so she's not a threat, and though the rather large man to his side looked deathly ill when he sat down he had yet to do anything that could possible infect Jeno further. Still, though, he kept his surgical mask on.

When his name is finally called - after three hours of waiting - he springs up before they can even finish the last syllable.

The paper on the exam table crinkles as Jeno hops up, the woman who led him to the room informing him that a nurse will be with him in a moment. Tension builds in his stomach, though he had been on edge since he finally agree to take heed of his coworkers words. But the tension dissipates when a male nurse in sea foam green scrubs slides into the room, round, doe eyes glancing up at him for a only brief second.

"So, Jeno, is it? What seems to be the problem?" The nurse asks, fingers flipping through the file in his hands, clearly not having time to read it amidst the busy waiting room. 

"I saw you on the train." Jeno says, giving him a kind smile that's ineffective due to the surgical mask. The nurse doesn't look up.

"I don't seem to recall that." The nurse says. "What's seems to be the problem?" He repeats, a little more stern.

"We talked." Jeno informs him. "You spilled your drink on the floor? My boots are still sticky."

"I think you have me mistaken. Can you unbutton your shirt for me please." He asks, nearly demanding. Perhaps he's right, this man in front of him seems to cold and mechanical to be the same bumbling fool he met on the train, but it's uncanny.

"I have a cough." Jeno says, finally informing him of his symptoms as he unbuttons his shirt, negating his previous memories of the week before. "And a sore throat, for like, a week now. It's really bad, sometimes -"

"I assumed, you don't have to explain." The nurse cuts him off. If his words weren't so professional Jeno would probably consider him rude.

"Sorry."

The nurse presses his stethoscope against Jeno's chest, just as cold as his words. He doesn't respond from then on, only instructing Jeno to breath in and out, stick out his tongue, and say "ahh". Jeno is still encapsulated. Staring at the nurse intently as he performs various, routine procedures, looking oddly beautiful as he stays focused on the task at hand. He doesn't mind not talking.

The nurse sends him off with a badly written script for medicated cough syrup and a bitter tone in his voice, mumbling something about ignorant people coming into the clinic when they clearly only have a simple cold they can attend to without medical observation. Jeno's out the door and in the bitter cold before he even realizes the nurse only looked at him once. Jeno decides that it wasn't because he didn't know him, but perhaps because he did, and he was ashamed to have been seen in such a state. Jeno doesn't even bother to fill the prescription.

The third time Jeno sees the nurse it's on the train again. It's earlier than before - the sun is still up and more people crowd the station and occupy most of the seats on the train. Jeno uses this as an excuse to sit next to his admiration. Though it doesn't really seem like he needs it as the nurse smiles up at him when he sits down, their thighs brushing when he moves his bag into his lap so Jeno can sit right next to him. He's not drinking anything this time.

"Did you take your medicine?" He asks quietly, a tiny smile pulling at his perky lips.

"You remember me?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't in the exam room."

The nurse bats a hand. "That wasn't me." He scoffs. "This -" He pokes a finger into his cheek. "Is me."

Jeno laughs, confused. "What?"

"That guy in the exam room - the nurse - that's not me. That's some pretentious asshole who secretly resents all the doctors in the hospital because he couldn't get into med school, but does just as much work as them - if not more." The nurse grumbles. "He's mean... He's rude, right? You thought he was rude? He is. He's rude and cold and... A bunch of other things..." He says, trailing off as if he forgot what he was saying, round eyes fixated somewhere off in the distance.

Jeno's more than confused. "Who are you then?"

"Me?" The nurses eyes widen in surprise, turning to face Jeno.

Jeno chuckles awkwardly. "Yeah, you. Who are you?" The young man bites his lip, looking forward again as he ponders on the question. It's quite amusing, how different he seems to be from the cold, mechanical person Jeno met at the hospital. Jeno wonders what he's on.

"I think..." He pauses, for a moment, eyes fixed forward until suddenly the nurses doe eyes are staring up at Jeno - wide and intimidating. He cocks his head to the side. "Who do you want me to be?"

His name is Jaemin. Jeno's not entirely sure of his surname but he knows his name is Jaemin. He hears it as the smaller boy mumbles an introduction, leading Jeno through a crowd full of people in the train station he wasn't meant to get off at - but Jaemin wanted him to go with him somewhere. He didn't specify where.

He had yet to answer Jeno's previous question properly. Jeno laughed in his face at his response, loud and obnoxious, but quickly pushed to the side when the smaller man asked him if he wanted to get coffee, then pulled him out of his seat with surprising force, not waiting for a _'yes'_. His fingers lingered on Jeno's wrist long after they were out of the train station

"I don't know where we are." Jaemin says, fingers strategically sliding into Jeno's palm. He looks over at him with a bright smile. "But that's fun, right?"

Jeno furrows his brow, squinting at the nurses face, now fully illuminated in the sunset. His pupils are blown out. "Are you high?"

Jaemin cocks an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Jeno cocks one back. "Are you deflecting?"

Jaemin beams. "Are you?"

Jeno sighs. The back and forth game too taxing for his level of exhaustion.

They end up at some coffee shop around the corner from the station that claims to be niche and high end, but only serves a few different kinds of lattes. Despite the small range of selection, Jaemin seems to have a hard time making a decision, getting overly worked up when the barista asks him if he wants milk foam or whipped cream on his cafe latte. Jeno makes him sit down and orders for him, figuring the best way to deal with indecision is to take the options away.

Jaemin is interesting. Jeno could spend hours probing useless information out of him and stay amused. He's similar to Jeno, likes the same music, same movies. He's a quiet guy and doesn't do much - work, sometimes coffee, then home - never deviating too far from his regular routine. He works hard. Usually in the clinic but he attends to cancer patients often, because he's close with the head of the oncology department. He doesn't exercise and thinks he's a little too chubby. He doesn't like strawberries.

By the time Jeno is looking down into the dried up foam at the bottom of his porcelain mug it's dark out. Jeno forgets about his earlier assumption that Jaemin was high, and takes the train with him home.

Jaemin doesn't let him come near his apartment. He drops him off a block away and calls a cab for him, sliding crumpled up bills from the bottom of his bag (Jeno catches a glimpse inside, a mess of receipts, books and dirty scrubs, and pills - lots of pills) into Jeno's hand, saying he would like to repay him for the coffee. It's a $40 cab ride and Jaemin gives him 50 - the coffee cost $3.75.

It's very perplexing how Jeno comes to befriend him. When the taxi had pulled up Jaemin said goodbye with a wide smile and a wave, shivering in his wet sneakers, the scrubs that hang half an inch too long soaked to mid calf from snow and slush. He doesn't give Jeno a number or an email - not even his full name - but they become friends. Jeno finds him on the train and in coffee shops at excessively odd times, surprised with each encounter every time he catches Jaemin's round face in a crowd. There's no way he could be planning to meet Jeno - he finds him on the train and different times and different routes each occurrence. Perhaps it's fate, Jeno thinks while he's dazed in front of his computer. Renjun quirks an eyebrow at him when he walks by.

It gets colder and colder out as they begin to plan the encounters. Never a formal invitation, but a slight suggestion as to where the other might be around noon the next day, and how they would like to not eat lunch alone - how much they enjoyed today, enjoyed each other. Always said with a lowered gaze and bright red cheeks. Jaemin's running shoes are always soaking wet with the slush and snow, Jeno's worried he'll get frostbite, but he never complains, only smiles that wide smile that Jeno grows to love so much.

He's different a lot, Jaemin. His personality changes, or maybe his attitude, Jeno's not sure, but he's never the same when Jeno sees him. He laughs and talks about himself a lot when it's dark out - after work when he's relaxed and not stressed, on whatever he's always on, be it legal or otherwise. Possibly the pills hidden in the bottom of his bag, possibly whatever he mixes with his soda so often. During the day he listens. He doesn't understand accounting or anything about taxes or revenue and hedge funds but he listens to Jeno vent his frustrations with the balance sheets Renjun messed up during his unproductive week off. He earnestly tries to help.

"Renjun is...?" Jaemin poses after Jeno bats a hand, saying he'd rather be talking about Jaemin than work when he realizes he's been rambling.

"Oh, uh... He's my coworker." Jeno says. "We're really close. I've known him since high school, through college, now we work together." He smiles, fondly.

"Why don't you go to lunch with him?"

Jeno blinks, unable to interpret the meaning behind Jaemin's words. He furrows his brow. "Do you not like hanging out with me?"

Jaemin shakes his head, waving his hands in ridiculous wide motions. "No, no, no!" He stammers. If it was past 6:00 o'clock he would have yelled. "I just - he's so close? You come all this way to see me at lunch when he works right beside you. Wouldn't it be more convenient?"

Jeno furrows his eyebrows. "I don't get lunch with you for convince, Jaemin."

"Why then?"

Jeno chuckles. "Is that really a question?"

"Yes." Jaemin answers in complete seriousness. 

"I like you." Jeno explains. Jaemin continues to stare at him, perplexed. "You're interesting."

"You don't think I'm boring?" Jaemin quirks an eyebrow. Jeno smiles and shakes his head, the notion absurd to him. "Annoying?" He asks, not an air of self deprecation to his words, just honest confusion. "Most people do."

"No." Jeno chuckles.

"Really?"

Jeno laughs in his face. "Really!"

Jaemin nods, finally looking away, a satisfied smile playing over his lips. "Cool..."

"I need you to come over." Jaemin's voice is raspy and teary - not very 10:00 am Wednesday sounding. Jeno freezes, startled by such a change. "Now, please. Come quick."

"Why? I'm at work." Jeno says quietly as to avoid suspicion from his coworkers. "What's wrong?"

"Please." He whines.

"Why aren't you at work?" Jeno asks, trying to find a way to pry the answer out of him.

Jaemin sighs. "They sent me home." He says, clearly in disagreement with the decision. "Can you come over?"

"What? Why'd they send you home?"

"It's not important." Jaemin mumbles. "I broke a beer bottle and cut my hand open." He says. "There's a lot of blood. Can you hurry?"

"Jesus, Jaemin, you have to be more careful -"

"Okay, that's not going to help me now, Jeno!" Jaemin grumbles. "I'd fix it myself but -"

"Fine."

"I got blood on my phone texting you my address." Jaemin says. Jeno assumes the bottle he broke was not his first. "Gross, huh?" He smirks.

"Disgusting." Jeno sighs, figuring indulging Jaemin is better than dismissing his strange musings.

His apartment is dirty. Not only is his own apartment in shambles, but the building itself is disgusting. The exterior brick crumbling, rust eating at every exposed metal surface, the carpet in the lobby torn and filthy, the original blue faded and worn down into a dull, greyish brown where people walk through the centre. The elevator stunk and had cigarette butts on the floor. It appeared as though the carpet had been torn up, possibly to be sold, possibly because something stained it so badly and so often it wasn't worth replacing. Jeno hoped it was the former.

Jaemin's apartment is cleaner in comparison, nearly. Jeno could tell he was embarrassed by the clutter though. He doesn't make eye contact when Jeno leads him to the washroom for better light, shocked by how deep the cut is. Jaemin only seems worried about the mess. It's a bit unnerving.

"I would have cleaned up if I knew you were coming." Jaemin mutters, cheeks bright red. The tone in his voice reminds Jeno of the time his mother came over to his apartment for the first time unannounced, criticizing every speck of dirt in her wake.

Jeno doesn't respond, he only sighs and continues cleaning the cut up. Jaemin instructs him on how to clean it, as if it takes a medical degree to know how to clean a cut. (A medical degree that Jaemin doesn't actually have, and is bitter about.) He runs it under warm water, wraps it in gauze and finally, finally, looks him in the eyes. Jaemin smiles. Jeno makes him lunch.

Jaemin's sofa is surprisingly soft. It's dirty and old but smells fine. He sits and watches tv with him while he eats the sandwich he made from what he found in his stale refrigerator amidst beer, take out leftovers and half empty condiment jars. Jaemin sits with his knees up, like a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons, eyes wide on the television, taking tiny bites of the sandwich.

Jeno looks over at him and figures, though innocent eyes would tell him otherwise, Jaemin seems to be under quite a bit of distress.

Jaemin is quiet, and honestly quite shy. He's not one to talk about his feelings. Jeno can't judge much because he doesn't know Jaemin all too well - they're still in the beginning stages of their relationship so it's hard for Jeno to properly asses what's going on in Jaemin's head, but he feels like he has a pretty good picture.

From what Jeno gathers Jaemin isn't very prone to speaking up when he's hurt or upset. He told Jeno that he was the middle child, he never had the freedom of being the eldest and never was babied by his parents, he was kind of just there. He dealt with his feelings himself because his parents were busy fretting over the eldest getting older and the youngest being young - Jaemin was expected to get along normally without assistance. He graduated high school (though, he told Jeno over coffee on a Monday, tried eyes and a purple bandaid around his index finger, he wasn't too keen on his studies and really just hung around because he had no friends to skip class with), got his nursing certification, his own place - his own life. He's getting on well, or so one would assume.

And Jeno would very much like to assume. Looking at the black haired boy's wide, childlike eyes fixated on the television screen, flashes of boiling pasta and chopping chalets, an overly peppy hostess that Jaemin says is pretty, Jeno smiles. But he's not childlike. Not at all, and Jeno knows it's wrong to assume he is just because he looks innocent. Jaemin's pupils are blown wide after he excuses himself to the washroom, and Jeno knows he's very clearly not using the washroom for its intended purpose. He wants to view him as this wonderful, strange boy in the train with a dopey smile and a clumsy demeanour - a childlike innocence - but that image was completely bastardized when Jaemin returns from the washroom, back to his regular 9:00 pm self. It was a bit off putting.

It's not Jeno's place to judge, though. Jaemin could have millions of reasons to be doing whatever the hell he's doing (Jeno's still not sure, but he's almost positive it's not legal) and Jeno could never understand, but he wouldn't need to, because Jaemin is an adult. He's in his 20's - only a few months younger than Jeno - and he can make these decisions on his own. He's responsible. He's the one who decides what's right and what's wrong. And none of those decisions are any of Jeno's business whatsoever. So he tries to overlook it.

Jaemin sits down with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa as if all the energy in his body was drained within the few minutes he spent away from the living room. Jeno wraps an arm around his shoulder, resting his head against Jaemin's. Jaemin snuggles right up to him.

"Jaemin..." Jeno murmurs, his name conveying a complete sentence, a complete question.

He wonders if this is a step up in their relationship when Jaemin understands without another word. "I'm okay." He says quietly. "You can go back to work."

"I want to stay with you, though." Jeno says, a little too whiny to pass as purely concern. He does like Jaemin a little bit more than he will admit, and he kind of lets it slip sometimes.

"But I'm fine." Jaemin yawns. "You're wasting your time."

"That's okay." Jeno says, catching Jaemin's yawn. "I like to waste time with you."

Jeno finds himself at Jaemin's place more often than coffee shops and fast food restaurants. Jaemin sends short texts with spelling errors or emoticons or no punctuation, never asking him to come over but always, somehow, getting Jeno to hop on the train across town.

Every once in awhile Jeno does mention that Jaemin is out of the way, and he has a job, a life. Jaemin leaves work whenever there's no more work to be done - the clinic is only open on Tuesday's and Thursday's and on his off days he tends to spend time being a slave to whichever doctor is around, and he can escape the enslavement easily by going home. By asking Jeno to help him find his glasses or clean his closet or kill a spider. But Jaemin's shoulders sink and his cheeks glow because he knows Jeno can't just run across the city to sit and watch reruns and daytime television with him, no matter how much he desperately wants to.

It's clear that Jaemin feels guilty for the fact he's alone a lot. And not just alone, but lonely. Jeno can tell by the way he lets out a whine when Jeno tells him he has to go. Jaemin's realistic - he knows Jeno's job is demanding and he knows Jeno has other friends and other responsibilities, but Jeno can tell he's not wild about being alone, yet again. So Jeno spends a little longer each time. A little more time here and there. A few minutes late to work and a few minutes late to meetings. A few minutes that won't hurt - until they do. Until Doyoung’s scolding him time and time again and Jeno finds himself just as lonely in his cubicle as Jaemin is in his living room.

He sends Jaemin pointless messages of frowny faces and misspelled swear words when he's having a bad day. Jaemin sends him hearts and smiley faces back and Jeno's day is just a little bit better.

Jaemin is always just that - a little bit better. Hearing his laugh is like anyone else's but just a percent more stomach turning, his smile just a bit more heart warming and his hands holding Jeno's just a drop more shiver inducing. He's everything good and just a bit more, and Jeno likes him just a bit more than everything else. Probably a lot more.

The winter gets colder and colder until it's so cold Jeno can't imagine it getting worse. Jaemin's apartment is always cold and musty and never really feels homey. He wonders how Jaemin ever showers when stepping out of the heat from the water meant stepping into below zero temperatures, but Jaemin never seemed too bothered with the cold. Jaemin was never real to bothered by anything, really. He missed meals and cut his fingers on bottle caps but he never seemed to mind. It was a bit concerning - unnerving, almost, to see Jaemin so numb to everything that went on around him. Jeno slid his icy fingers under his shirt as he stood and washed dishes and only gathered a giggle in response - no flinching, not even startled.

So perhaps Jeno made an effort to get a rise out of Jaemin. It was never ill willed or malicious - the reasoning was selfish but Jeno was careful to not cause Jaemin any distress. He would purposely leave sugar out of Jaemin's coffee or microwave his food too long. He would force Jaemin's to stand outside with him while he smoked. Force him to walk home with him instead of going by bus or cab, and Jaemin never complained. He wasn't happy, per se, but definitely not upset. His fingers shook as he lit Jeno's cigarette, a frown pulled across his face as he focused only to dissolve instantly when he drew his gaze back to Jeno's eyes.

Jeno had always thought it was the drugs - or whatever. It made him uncomfortable to think about Jaemin being dependent on whatever substance he seemed to be on so constantly, and it made him even more uncomfortable when he realized Jaemin wasn't really the person he was when he was on the drugs. Jaemin's attitude changed a lot, from lunch to dinner to late night bar hopping you could bet money on the fact they were all different people. Jeno knew each one, how they acted and how they liked to be treated, and each persona only liked him to a certain degree.

At 3:00am Jaemin was in love - intoxicated with the idea of being anywhere near Jeno. His hands burned welts into Jeno's skin as he curled around him, shielding himself from the horror of nightfall and the nipping wind, a smile on his face when Jeno wraps an arm around his waist, even if he knows it's just because he's too drunk to walk on his own. At 7:00pm, Jaemin loved him. Not in love, maybe, but he was glad to know Jeno, glad to be in his company. He was quiet and calm and laid in Jeno's lap like a kitten while they watched TV together, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Jeno's fingers stroking through his hair. Noon - Jaemin was alert. Like a rabbit with its ears sticking up, not hostile but very aware. He still loved Jeno, though it was more of a sense of comradary, a strong but professional bond between two men.

But Jaemin always broke down. Every façade was smashed when he sat back and really looked at Jeno. At 5:00am or at 5:00pm, it would always happen. Jeno wasn't sure which Jaemin he was falling in love with, but he was sure all of them we falling in love with him.

They always sat together, Jeno and Jaemin. The same side of the booth, one half of the sofa, and a set of train seats. As feelings grew to be more obvious the two began to grow closer, physically and mentally. Jeno wondered what Jaemin's true intentions with him were. He wondered how they could have come this far without him realizing Jaemin was gunning for him. Or realizing he felt the same way.

Jeno sat, in the big armchair Jaemin had neglected for years. He pushed the clothes that hung over the back of it onto the floor, into a pile where clothes that previously took up the same space resided. And Jaemin sat with him. Because Jeno knew that Jaemin would follow his every move, abide by his every whim. If he said jump Jaemin would say _’only if you do’_. If he sat in a chair, too small for two people to sit casually, Jaemin would find his way into that chair. Jaemin has a very dependant personality.

It's Sunday, and it's 10:27 am, and Jaemin's looking at Jeno like it's midnight on a Friday.

Jaemin sits in Jeno's lap, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand while the other hangs lazily over Jeno's shoulder. "I like spending time with you." He says. "Do you?"

Jeno can't smell anything over the strong scent of instant coffee. He wonders how Jaemin can go from drinking $7 lattes to coffee so bitter and flavourless it might as well be brewed from dirt. He laughs. "Would I be here if I didn't?" Jeno retorts.

Jaemin rests his head against Jeno's, staring at the black television. "You could have alterer motives." He sips his coffee.

"I don't." Jeno says, taking the coffee from Jaemin.

Jaemin watched him drink intently, eyes trailing over his lips and the sharp edges of his jaw and neck. He stares the way he does when they’re drunk, when Jeno can hardly hide how he feels because the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions to the point at which his mind yells at him to just go for it - to just kiss him. Sunlight pours through his dirty blinds and illuminates his eyes. Dark irises turn golden brown and wide pupils turn pin sized. The whites of his eyes are clearer than ever, his skin soft and mellow in the dusty yellow light. And Jeno realizes, as Jaemin bats his eye lashes, that he's staring right back at him, just as intently - and sober. And it seemed like he had been for awhile. 

Jeno can’t remember the last time Jaemin shifted - it’s just been him, and only him. No wild changes, no confusion over what’s in his system and whether it’s clouding his judgement - whether he means what he says or his words come from a foreign substance. Smiling softly at the elder as he traced his fingers down his spine, dipping slightly below his collar and making him shiver. He doesn’t know when he gave it up - or how, but he’s here now. The real Jaemin. And he’s staring at Jeno with all the love in the world he wonders how he ever thought those feelings only came from intoxicants. Maybe they let them show easier, but it’s clear, now, every version of Jaemin felt the same way about him. He just wished he could say it to his face instead of pretending they were nothing but friends. 

"Jaemin..." Jeno says softly. "We need to talk about this, you know." He says, and Jaemin looks away.

His hand is tiny and pale compared to Jeno's as it folds over his to hold the coffee cup. Jeno doesn't let go. "We don't."

Jeno huffs slightly, frustrated over Jaemin’s response and his own anxiety bringing up the subject. He continues anyways, because he can’t take it anymore. "We have to sometime, Jaemin, we can't stay with coy looks and flirty comebacks, it's too confusing." Jeno says, voice dripping in sympathy for Jaemin - because he knows it’s hard. It’s not easy for him, either. "I need to know how you feel."

"Can't you tell how I feel?" Jaemin says, his eyes deliberately trained on his reflection in his coffee, too scared to look up. 

"I'd rather hear it from you." Jeno sighs, somewhat frustrated but sympathetic to Jaemin’s shyness. "Look, I understand it's hard to talk about your feelings, but there's nobody more willing to accept them than me, you know that, right?"

Jaemin purses his lips into a small frown. "That's not it..." He says softly, stroking his thumb over Jeno's knuckles. His hands are warm. "It's just that - if I tell you how I feel... What I want... I don’t know - there's no going back from there."

Jeno furrows his brow in confusion. "Why would you need to go back?"

"I wouldn't. But you might." Jaemin says, looking back at Jeno with worried eyes - they’re watery and Jeno’s heart sinks at the sight. "What if I hurt you? What if this goes horribly wrong? Wouldn't you wish that I never told you I loved you? Wouldn't that be better?"

Jaemin's thoughts are heart breaking. "No. It wouldn't." Jeno says, still confused as to how Jaemin could possibly hurt him - how he could possibly be anything but a blessing in his life. "If this goes horribly - which it won't - I would rather have not wasted my time with someone who didn't love me." He states. "Or someone who I didn't love."

There’s a glint in Jaemin’s eyes that Jeno has never seen, and that shatters his heart into a million pieces and rips at his stomach. He can’t take it - can’t take the idea of Jaemin thinking he’s undeserving of Jeno, of love in general. Without a word Jeno takes the coffee mug from Jaemin, placing it on the table beside them before he pulls Jaemin close. Closer than they ever had been and nowhere near as close as Jeno so desperately wanted them to be. He realizes how much he’s wanted this - how much he’s wanted Jaemin. For so long - since the moment they met, he’s all Jeno ever wanted in his life. 

Because he wanted his everything. All those things he was afraid of. All those worries that Jeno knew would never come to fruition he would accept even if they did. He wants all the pain and all the stress because what comes along with it - what clutches his shoulders too tightly and what let’s out a sob into the side of his neck - is Jaemin. And he’d endure anything for Jaemin. 

“I do love you.” Jeno whispers against the shell of his ear. Jaemin won’t look up, he’s embarrassed and ashamed and Jeno wants to tell him he has no reason to be. That love is scary and Jeno’s not far behind. That he’s filled with anxiety and worry over their relationship just as much as the younger, but everything else - the way Jaemin looks at him, the way he touches him, how happy he makes him just by being in his life - it all makes up for it. And every worry Jeno has ever had disappears with the crinkle of his eyes or the warmth of his hands. “So much. More than anything in the world.”

He stays silent for awhile, clutching at Jeno as he tries to stifle his sobs. He only lets out shaky breaths, his body quivering like it was excruciating for him to cry. Nobody has ever let him do so without judgement, it seems, and Jeno wants him to know he would never think any less of him for showing his emotions. He would only love him more. 

“Say it again.” Jaemin says with a weak voice, so small Jeno swears it’s the voice of an angel, but he knows it’s not. It’s something better. And he presses his forehead against Jeno’s with red eyes that rip at his chest. “Tell me again. Please.”

It hurts to see him like this. Despite having wanted for so long to break down that thick wall that stood between the two it still hurts. He wants to only ever see him smile, and so he gives a weak one to him first, wiping his tears and pressing a kiss against his damp cheek. “I love you, Jaemin.” 

It’s pained, but there’s a curve to his lips. And it grows as Jeno moves his lips to his nose, his other cheek and - finally, after what seems like an eternity of wishing for it - his lips. Soft and chaste as nothing but a gesture to solidify his statement, to prove he means it. Jaemin’s lips are softer than anything, pressing back delicately as his hands come to grasp Jeno’s wrists, the elders hands holding either side of his small face. It’s quiet. Gentle - nice. It’s all Jeno’s ever wanted and he hopes to god Jaemin understands that, but he knows he does. Because he sighs softly against Jeno’s mouth, his lips tightening into a small smile until it’s nothing but a giggle and their teeth knocking against each other awkwardly. There’s still tears in Jaemin’s eyes when Jeno looks at him again, but they’re curved, sparkling - happy. And Jeno is too. 

“I love you too, you know?” Jaemin says with a crinkle of his eyes, his thumbs tickling the insides of Jeno’s wrists as he rests his forehead against the elders till he’s slightly cross eyed and silly looking. He’s perfect. 

Jeno only laughs, petting his fingers over Jaemin’s damp cheeks, now drying with his happiness. Staring at him - like Jeno always did - he revels in that smile. In his sparkling eyes and his soft cheeks. And looking at him now, how happy he was to hear those words from Jeno - to say them himself - the elder vows to himself to make it his life’s mission to keep him happy, because he deserved it. 

“I know.”


End file.
